


The Waif of the Black Rose

by SweetSorcery



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 19th Century, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Cock Worship, Corsetry, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Hair-pulling, Immortality, Kinktober, Kinktober 2018, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, London, Loss of Virginity, Love at First Sight, M/M, Male Slash, Neck Kissing, Prostitution, Protectiveness, Rescue, Rimming, Romance, Rough Kissing, Slash, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Vampire Turning, Vampires, foot worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 22:33:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16228664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: Lord Percival Graves leads a lonely, timeless existence. Until, one foggy night in Victorian London, when he enters theBlack Rose...





	The Waif of the Black Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **Kinktober 2018**. I got carried away a little. I'm using prompts from more days, but these are the main ones.
> 
> Prompts used:  
> Day 5 - Feet | Sadism/Masochism (mild)  
> Day 6 - Daddy | Corset | Cock Worship | Biting  
> Day 8 - Prostitution/Sex Work (mild, you'll see what I mean)  
> Day 10 - Hair-pulling  
> Day 11 - Cross-dressing

  


Lord Graves swept into the dimly lit foyer of the _Black Rose_ from the foggy lane outside, trading the grey dimness of the London night for the warm glow of flickering wall lamps. He had been there before, many times, and had always left alone. Yet he had not given up hope that, in this establishment, if anywhere, his chances of finding what he needed were best; it was merely an intuition, but it was all he had left to go on. And he had sought all over London, the British Isles, and more than one continent, and had spent several human lifetimes doing so.

He had come close to finding what he sought only twice. Once, in Venice, in 1773, there had been a caramel-skinned beauty with large eyes and swaying hips, but a mind entirely vacant of anything save how to entice a man. Then again, in 1832, in Paris, he had met a golden-haired, blue-eyed angel who was just a little _too_ angelic for his liking.

"My Lord," Madame Sylvia greeted him, pleased at any exalted visitor, even those who made little use of her wares beside to drink or smoke for a while, look about, and leave disappointed. "We haven't seen you in some time. Come in out of the cold." When her imposing guest nodded graciously, she took his hat, cloak and scarf.

"Good evening. I don't suppose there is anyone new?" Lord Graves asked, without much hope.

"Yes indeed, sir." Madame Sylvia gave him a wide grin, which caused her too dark lipstick to gather unattractively in the wrinkled corners of her mouth. "Three new arrivals." She led the way through a thick purple velvet curtain and into the smoky main room, where settees, love seats and divans were artfully arranged, with small side tables holding everything from wine bottles to abandoned cigars in ashtrays, discarded fans to lipstick-stained glasses. She pointed across the room and started to sell her latest acquisitions.

"That smiling redhead over there is very popular. Look at those green eyes and freckles. They cover his whole body!" She chuckled. 

When Lord Graves merely glanced over the boy - dressed in an unflattering shade of brown and looking as eager as a puppy, she shrugged and continued, "And there is a Spaniard who came to us last week. Quite an asset, he is. Sucks cock like you wouldn't believe."

He glanced at the boy with marginally more interest; he was handsome enough, but his attempt at growing a moustache and excessively pomaded hair put him off. Besides, he looked simply too... masculine, and at the same time too feminine. Lord Graves sighed. Perhaps his ideas of perfection were simply too extravagant to ever be embodied in a single individual.

Then his eyes fell on a head of black curls, above a swan-like neck, wide shoulders and a tall, slender body dressed in the most sumptuous emerald green silk gown Lord Graves had ever seen. He could not recall even seeing such a gown in the finest salons in Mayfair. Yet it was being worn by a prostitute, in a tucked away bordello on the edge of Soho. Interesting. He could barely see the youth's profile: a sharp jaw line led to a chin supported on steepled hands, as he peered in fascination at the absinthe dripping into a glass in front of him from the elaborate fountain, slowly dissolving the sugar cube as it sank through.

"I see you've spotted Credence. We're not sure what to do with him. He's pretty, there's no doubt. We don't know where he comes from, and he won't say. Claims he can't remember. He refuses to wear anything but gowns, even though not all our guests are... well, like you, my Lord. He has three of them, all fit for a queen." Madame Sylvia cackled. She kept talking, but Lord Graves had stopped listening.

"Credence..." he murmured. The name felt like a sumptuous sweet on his tongue. He wondered if the boy did his name proud. He carelessly abandoned the chattering woman and walked towards the table and the unearthly pale green glow emanating from the absinthe fountain. It threw its strange light over the profile now coming into better focus, and Lord Graves' dark eyes widened.

The boy must have heard his steps and looked up, and Lord Graves gasped. Pretty, the foolish woman had called him. Here was the most beautiful creature he had laid eyes upon in all his centuries in this forsaken world. The dark, cat-like eyes gazed up at him with great curiosity. The classic nose was a perfect complement to black, well-shaped brows, and high cheekbones were caressed by silken curls. And the mouth... oh, the mouth. Blood red in the pale face, drawing the eye with sinful inevitability.

The boy stood up, eye-level with him despite Lord Graves' tall-heeled boots, and smiled coyly at him.

If Lord Graves had been possessed of a living, beating heart, it might have burst at that moment. Luckily, he was not so encumbered. "Credence," he purred, holding up his right hand – encased in a white evening glove, open palm chest level with the boy. "I am enchanted to meet you."

A slender hand was placed on it without hesitation. "Sir." The boy gasped when the back of his hand was kissed reverently.

Lord Graves did not release the hand, instead shifted his grip so he could stroke over the fingers, his thumb tracing across bony knuckles. "Lord Percival Graves. I am told you are something of an enigma."

The boy was still smiling, gently and teasingly now. "Not by intent, my Lord, I assure you. I woke in an abandoned carriage one morning, with what I assumed to be my luggage and belongings, with no memory of who I am or where I came from."

"You assumed a case of gowns to be yours?" Lord Graves was amused, and also impressed that clearly, Credence was not an uneducated street urchin blown in by a chilly breeze.

Credence smiled. "There was no other luggage left with me, and I found I liked the feel of silk on my skin."

Letting his black eyes roam the pale neck and collarbones, down to the black lace edge of the décolletage, Lord Graves thought that nothing but silk should ever touch that skin. Silk, and his hands and lips. "Credence... that is an interesting name."

"I have a locket bearing that name. It is empty, alas." The boy gathered if from above his heart, where it dangled nearly inside the low-cut gown.

Lord Graves had been listening to the deep and melodious voice, and watching the beautiful mouth shape the words. He admitted to himself that he was utterly bewitched by this riddle before him. He wondered if this was how it felt to others when they encountered his lure, and he resolved not to use it. He would use no tricks on Credence. "How did you come to be here?"

Credence tilted his head, long neck bending and catching the warm glow of a nearby lamp. Lord Graves could not take his eyes off the smooth curve. He had been hungry for so long, and had coped with morsels - hastily snatched in dark alleys. Yet, right then, he felt on the verge of starvation.

"I did not know where else to go, nor had I much money. I thought this a hotel when I passed by." Credence laughed softly at his own naiveté. "I returned and stepped inside, and here I am." He curtsied prettily, fanning out his wide skirt with the hand Lord Graves was not holding. "At your service, my Lord."

Lord Graves smiled. "Then come with me, Credence, and we may be of service to each other."

Credence blushed, which surprised the nobleman, considering his flirtatious demeanour thus far, and said, "I should like that very much, my Lord."

* * *

Lord Graves had asked Madame Sylvia for her best room, and had paid her handsomely, and she had cheerfully provided a large chamber on the top floor. The four poster bed was covered in luxurious fabrics in shades of blue with silver embroidery. There were two upholstered chairs near the window, beside a small but sturdy table, clearly built for _use_. There was no other furniture; none was needed.

On the way into the room, Credence had lit a gaslight on the wall, and he now made for the table, presumably to offer libation to Lord Graves from the carafe waiting there.

Lord Graves had stepped up behind him, his gloved hands cupping the bare shoulders above the lace trim. There was the faintest reflection of Credence in the window in front of the darkness of the night outside. There was none of Lord Graves, and Credence gasped.

"My Lord, you--"

Lord Graves pressed his lips to the side of Credence's neck, while drawing him back against himself, and the boy was silent at once, save for a soft sigh.

"You are utterly enchanting, Credence." Slightly dry, cool lips whispered against the long neck. "It is no wonder I felt I had to come here on my first night back in England. You would draw me across many borders." The nobleman's nose brushed up the side of Credence's neck, nostrils flaring as he inhaled the scent of the boy's life force. "Across centuries."

"My Lord," Credence whispered. His head had tipped to the side, giving even better access to his neck. Yes, his name was quite appropriate indeed.

Lord Graves fought for self-control, stood straight, and turned the boy to face him. The black eyes gazed up at him from a pale face, flushed just a little across the high cheekbones, and he quickly removed his gloves and placed them on the table. He traced the peachy flesh with his fingertips, feeling the gentle pulse of the blood colouring it beneath. Then he grasped the slim waist and lifted the boy to sit on the table, and stepped as close to him as the yards of emerald fabric allowed. He felt the boy tremble.

"Are you afraid of me, Credence?" His voice was gentle.

"No, my Lord." Credence swallowed, and the other man's eyes fixed on the movement of his throat. "Though I have been told to expect that there might be men who will treat me badly."

Lord Graves' hands tightened on his waist. "Not after this night, Credence. Of that I can assure you." Then he went over the boy's words again in his mind. "You mean to tell me I am the first to take you from that drawing room downstairs?"

Credence nodded. "I have only been here two days, and Madame has told me not to insist on wearing my gowns. Perhaps I am not..." He lowered his eyes. "Not beautiful enough to wear them."

Lord Graves stared at him incredulously. "Credence, you would make sackcloth look ravaging, to say nothing of the sumptuous gown you are wearing." When the boy smiled up at him shyly, he added, "And you look like an angel, though I admit to being relieved none have seen this before me. I would not wish to waste a single hour of this night having to find and kill them."

Credence's eyes widened, but he gave an incredulous little laugh. "You wish so much to be the first to possess me, my Lord?"

"I will be the _only_ one to possess you, Credence," Lord Graves said, and his voice was firm and steady. "Unless you do not wish it to be so."

Credence's eyes roamed the other's face, while he blindly reached for and lifted his right hand. He glanced curiously at the slightly too long, sharply pointed nails, then touched the fingers to his lips. "I must have been cast out of my home for my impetuous nature, my Lord, for I find I need not even think about my answer." And he surprised Lord Graves by leaning forward and burying his face in the crook of his neck, while wrapping his arms around it. "I am yours, for as long as you wish me to be yours."

Lord Graves tightened his arms around the boy and said, somewhat wryly. "You may be surprised at just how long a time you have committed to."

"I do not mind." Credence nuzzled against the man's neck above his starched collar. "From the moment I looked at you, I felt myself trembling inside, wishing for nothing more than that you should touch me. I have never felt such a thing, at least... not as far as I know." There was a little frown between his brows, as though he was annoyed with himself for his amnesia.

Laughing softly, Lord Graves drew the boy's head back with his hand in the lush curls, and looked at him. "We shall not worry about your past, for your future is endless."

"It is?" The boy blinked, his long lashes sweeping up and down.

"I can give you eternity, Credence." Lord Graves' eyes dropped to the lips parting in anticipation, or perhaps to ask him how. He raised Credence's right hand, opened his mouth, and bit down lightly on the tip of his index finger, bringing forth just a single drop of blood, while letting Credence see his fangs.

"My Lord, you're a... vampire." The boy was panting, and Lord Graves hoped very much it was not in fear.

He nodded. "Now, do you fear me?"

Credence raised his arms to his shoulders again and slowly shook his head. And Lord Graves drew him roughly into his arms and kissed him, hungrily, tasting the sweetness of his mouth, while Credence's hands clutched at him. The boy whimpered into his mouth, shuddering all over when Lord Graves gave him his tongue to stroke and suckle. And how he devoured it!

Lord Graves set to work on the laces at the back of his bodice, undoing them as swiftly as his distraction with Credence's unexpected passion allowed. He tore them apart in the end, pulling the gown open as though it was made of paper, and drew it off Credence's torso with scarcely an interruption to the kiss.

When he lifted Credence with one arm around his tightly corseted waist, as though he weighed nothing, to draw the gown down off his hips and let it pool on the floor, the boy gasped. He still wore a floor length underskirt that was all lace and frills, and very pretty no doubt but, right then, Lord Graves wanted it gone. He dealt with the tie at the back with a sharp nail, then crouched before Credence and held the cotton with his left hand while running the nail of right index finger up the entire length. He sliced it open until it fell away from the boy's waist.

Credence watched in amazement, his chest rising and falling. "I have no others like that," he said, almost absently.

"I will buy you a hundred," Lord Graves said roughly, standing up and sweeping the boy up in his arms in a single motion, and Credence wrapped his legs around his hips as he was carried to the side of the bed.

"As though you were my papa?" Credence asked on the way, and Lord Graves set him down on the thick damask bedding.

"Your lover, your master, your slave, your friend, and yes, your papa also, if you wish it." Lord Graves smirked. The excited sparkle in the boy's eyes told him he wished it very much.

"You will be all that to me? And take care of me too?" Credence asked, fearfully, as if unsure he was not asking for too much.

It was no wonder, Lord Graves thought, that, having been abandoned, Credence should want to be taken care of more than anything. "I will be everything you need, as you will be everything to me, my darling boy."

He enjoyed the adoring smile directed at him for a moment, before fully taking in the corset strapping the slender body in so tight, the black bloomers puffing out from well muscled thighs and ending a few inches above black stockings, which led down long legs to black lace ankle boots.

Lord Graves went down on one knee and set about untying the boot laces, brushing the smooth leather off long, narrow feet. He kissed them reverently – curved arches, toes curling in delight when he pressed his open palms up against the soles, slender ankles he stroked and nipped at lightly. Then he kissed his way up both calves, one by one, his palms covering both knees and keeping them apart while his mouth travelled up the left thigh, then kissed the bare skin between the stocking top and the knickers, before letting the very tips of his fangs press into it lightly.

Credence jolted a little, which caused just the slightest pin prinks of pain. He gasped when Lord Graves instantly began to suckle at the flesh with a groan of pleasure, as though he was the most delightful treat. His fingers dug into the bedspread, and he leaned back a little, giving easier access.

When Lord Graves next looked up at him, his black eyes looked at Credence so hungrily, the boy shivered in anticipation. He watched the nobleman rise to his feet. His fine waistcoat and cravat were undone and carelessly discarded to the foot of the bed, followed by the hastily unbuttoned shirt. The man's torso glowed somewhat eerily in the dim gaslight, shadows playing over muscles which made Credence weak with the memory of how easily he had been lifted and carried across the room. Everything about Lord Graves suggested strength, despite the almost ethereal translucency of his skin – a stark contrast to the blood red of his hard nipples.

"You are so beautiful, my Lord."

Lord Graves smiled. "Thank you, Credence, but it is you who is beautiful."

Credence begged to differ when boots and stockings were removed and the black trousers undone and pushed past narrow hips. He leaned forward, fingers reaching out to reverently trace sharp hipbones, his mouth watering at the sight of the trail of dark hair leading from belly to hard, thickly veined cock. He touched the shaft as if it were a treasure, and Lord Graves sighed. He glanced up, the dark eyes were watching his every expression, and he curled his fingers around the velvety shaft, just tracing the veins, exploring the texture, moving it up and down, fascinated by the way it warmed and came to life at his touch, throbbing when he played with the head - just a little less pale than the rest of the cock, the spongy flesh giving in when he pressed on it.

"Credence!" Lord Graves gasped. His strong hand was in Credence's hair then, brushing through black curls,

"May I kiss it?" Credence asked shyly.

"You may do anything you like." How could the madwoman downstairs have had the heart to put such an innocent angel to work in this place? Lord Graves was more relieved than ever that he had found him when he did.

Credence cradled the full cock in both hands and kissed the tip, as if it was a bird he had found lost in a park. It was enchanting to watch the red lips caress it like that, and then his tongue flicked out and he licked up against the underside of the bulbous tip, before tilting his head and curling his tongue all around it, licking and tasting it from all sides, almost accidentally dipping into the slit.

Lord Graves groaned. He watched a clear drop well up and be licked off immediately, his fingers tightening in Credence's curls when he hummed in pleasure and licked across it again. And again, until another drop welled forth. This one he did not lick off. Instead he closed his mouth around the whole head and sucked hard, while both palms closed around the shaft.

Lord Graves cursed, his legs shaking, his fingers too tight in the soft hair. He loosened them with an effort, but Credence looked up at him pleadingly, murmuring with his tip just touching his lower lip. "More, please."

"More... pain?" Lord Graves asked incredulously.

"Please, if you do not mind." Credence looked so eager, so afraid to be refused at the same time.

Lord Graves took a deep breath. Could he possibly be this lucky? He had been quite willing to treat Credence as though he was made of the most fragile porcelain, taking only what he needed, when he needed it, but if Credence enjoyed pain, they would be able to keep each other in ecstasies of delight for centuries, with no fear of danger to either of them.

He wondered if this was how Credence had come to be abandoned. Had his papa, or an older man he desired, punished him, and he had shown his enjoyment of the pain? Then perhaps, leaving him with nothing but women's clothing had been an attempt to humiliate him? He was proud, so proud, of his boy for embracing what had almost certainly been meant to break him, and he resolved to find the perpetrators during their miserable lifetime and see that they regretted their actions. But that could wait... for now.

Credence was waiting for his answer, a little fearfully, and Lord Graves schooled his expression to alleviate any worries.

"I do not mind at all, you sweet, precious darling." The strong hand clutched the dark curls and twisted them hard in his grip, and Credence mewled with joy, immediately returning to sucking the dripping cock back into his mouth, learning each inch of it, each vein, and all the ways to kiss and lick and slurp at it to cause the most wonderful reactions from Lord Graves.

When he watched his cock held upright, Credence's mouth kissing down the underside, only to have his tongue lick back all the way up from the base, Lord Graves could no longer hold back. With a groan, he streaked a peachy cheek, and the left temple, before Credence hungrily enclosed the tip again, letting his mouth be flooded and swallowing rapidly.

Lord Graves swayed on his feet, and Credence drew him down to lie beside him on the large bed.

Credence smiled gently. "Have I pleased my papa? My sire?"

"You have indeed." Lord Graves caressed the flushed face, kissing the sticky fluid from the temple, and swiping the streak of come from a high cheekbone to offer it to Credence on his fingertip.

The boy sucked the whole finger into his mouth greedily.

Lord Graves took in the closed eyes and the lips pursed around his finger. Credence called him his sire already. It was time.

"Credence..."

The boy released the digit and gazed at him trustingly. He looked as though he were reading the vampire's thoughts, and he nodded. "I am yours, my Lord."

Lord Graves leaned over him. Keeping his eyes on Credence's face, he used a sharp nail to open a vein in his left wrist, and held it above the boy's mouth.

Credence parted his lips, and once a few drops had fallen on his tongue, he grasped at the arm with both hands and held the wrist to his mouth, suckling eagerly.

Lord Graves groaned as he watched the ecstasy in the beautiful face. The boy consumed his blood with the same hunger as he had consumed his seed, and he could no longer wait to drink his fill of him. Not reclaiming his wrist, he used his free hand to tip up Credence's chin, leaned down for a deep inhalation of his scent, and bit down on the pale neck. Hard.

Credence cried out against his wrist, trembling all over, while the fangs pierced his skin. His heart pounded, struggling to pump the blood to the surface as quickly as it was being drawn. He arched up against the hard body above him, his cock, still in silk bloomers, pressing hard against Lord Graves' belly, his legs wide and clamping around his hips. And for several minutes, they both drank and lapped at each other.

"Credence, my love," Lord Graves whispered against the wounds, licking at them until they healed over. After sealing his own wrist as well, he returned the pressure against the lithe form, his own revived body responding with renewed energy and fervour.

Credence clung to him like a vine, panting hard, while he went through his transformation, and Lord Graves cradled him in his arms, kissing his punctured neck, his cheeks – paler than ever, licked the trickle of blood from his chin, and followed it to his blood-stained lips, which he kissed and bit and sucked into his mouth one at a time.

Once Credence calmed and lay quite still, legs still holding Lord Graves close, he opened his eyes. They shone with a supernatural beauty, and a slow smile tugged up the wide mouth.

"Welcome to eternity, my beloved," Lord Graves murmured, caressing the pale cheeks.

Credence's smile widened. "Everything looks so much sharper, crystal clear. I thought it would hurt more."

"Not enough pain for you?" Lord Graves smirked.

Credence's laugh rang out sweetly. "It was wonderful." He lowered his eyes for a moment. "Am I very odd, Sire?"

"You are perfect, Credence." Lord Graves sucked a tender earlobe into his mouth, then bit it until Credence gasped. "And your blood sings and undulates in my veins like music. I need to taste more of you. Everything."

"Everything I have is yours, Sire." Credence let his legs fall open, gasping when he felt the hard cock lining up against his. Then broad hands tugged at his black bloomers and slid them down over his hips and thighs. He squirmed, trying to help, succeeding only in rubbing against his sire so distractingly, they both needed to pause and compose themselves for a moment.

"It is a lucky thing you cannot kill me," Lord Graves growled, and Credence laughed softly. "Off with this," he said, tearing the flimsy silk the rest of the way down the long legs, throwing it aside, and then kneeling between the legs – now clad only in filmy stockings – and clutching the backs of both thighs to lift Credence's arse onto his lap.

Credence was breathing hard, the tight corset and being bent at the waist only adding to his shortness of breath at finding himself so exposed.

Lord Graves ran his hands over the silky skin of Credence's thighs, along their sides and over the top, and to the downy insides. He watched the long, leaking cock sway gently, as if seeking contact with his stroking hands, and he took pity, closing a firm fist around it.

Credence cried out, arching his back even more, and Lord Graves leaned down and caught the dripping head of his cock in his mouth, his palm so firm around the shaft, Credence was held suspended for a moment.

The slender fingers clutched at the bedspread for support, and then Lord Graves' hands were under Credence's buttocks, and he drew him deep into his mouth, let the head bump against the back of his throat, and swallowed.

Credence sobbed when he came, his vision swimming, then refocusing rapidly. "Oh," he gasped.

He was released slowly, his cock falling limply from smirking lips. Lord Graves did not give him time to fully recover, before he shifted to lie between Credence's legs, replacing his knees under his buttocks with a thick pillow. He kept the pale thighs wide apart, gazing intently at the small pink hole, which fluttered under the lightest touch of his fingertip.

"Sire, what are you doing?" Credence would have blushed, had he still lifeblood to spare.

"I am going to ease my path into your body, darling." Without further explanation, he replaced his fingertip with his tongue, flicking it against the furrowed skin until it gave in enough to push inside.

Credence gasped, clutching the sheets even harder. "I did not know such a thing was done," he marvelled.

The tongue retreated briefly from its forward advance. "Do you not like it?"

"Oh, I do, Percival. I do!" He smiled sweetly.

Lord Graves returned his smile, pleased Credence was beginning to dare use his first name and, when he resumed the tender intrusion, he added his index finger alongside his tongue. The whimpering and little jolts caused by this made him so hard, he sped up his efforts, spreading his saliva around the widening hole as he stabbed deeper inside.

"Please..."

Stilling, Lord Graves glanced up at the rapture on the beautiful face. He knew he had not spent enough time on preparation, but he knew a little pain would only make it even sweeter, for them both.

He knelt up again, and Credence gazed at him longingly and repeated softly, "Please, my love. You have my soul, and my heart. Take my body too."

"Credence..." Lord Graves lined himself up against the fluttering hole and, in one motion, pushed inside and moved over Credence for a hungry kiss.

Credence cried out into his mouth, and the cry turned into a groan at once, one long arm moving about his sire's back and one reaching up, fingers twisted in thick, black hair. He raised his stockinged feet onto the cushion beneath his hips, opening himself even wider, using it for resistance to counter the hard, fast, almost punishing thrusts.

Their tongues duelled in their open mouths, sustaining little wounds as fangs pierced them, the salty tang of each other's blood igniting their passions further. Sharp nails scratched over the pale skin of Credence's back, leaving thin rivulets of blood to be licked and healed later, and it made him tremble with pleasure.

Eventually, the long legs closed around Lord Graves' hips, and Credence let the comforting closeness, as much as the passion, draw him into another brief, but intense, climax he had not expected so soon.

Lord Graves came with a groan smothered against Credence's neck, pressing hard and deep into him one more time, as if doing so would ensure his essence could not leak from the prone body. He remained inside him too, for as long as he could, but eventually, he had to draw out and fell on his back, with Credence held in his arms and half on top of him.

"Is it always like that?" Credence asked softly.

"It is, when there is love. And passion."

"And belonging, Percival?" Credence asked.

"Yes, sweetheart. And belonging."

* * *

That night, Credence was spirited away from the _Black Rose_ and never seen again. At least, not there, and not alone. His lover and protector, of whom he carried a miniature in his locket, was always at his side from that day on.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://sweetsorcery.tumblr.com/), and we can squee about this and maybe other pairings/fandoms we love. And drop me a message there. I'd love to follow you back. :)
> 
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> Copyright of this fandom, some settings and its characters - J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and possibly other right holders. This story is written purely for the entertainment of fans, and no profit is made.


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